Chapter 20: Recalling the Anchor
Elizabeth rushed the guard toward the infirmary desperate to see her son, Elizabeth's breath quickened as she stepped into the infirmary, the Rat Kings private infirmary was quiet and cold and she gripped Emma's paw with almost bruising strength. Emma faltered at the threshold, ears flattened, eyes wide and filled with apprehension.
"Momma, what if…what if he's—" Emma began, voice barely audible.
Elizabeth knelt, gently taking Emma's face in her paws, her gaze firm yet tender. "Whatever we find, we face together, okay? You're not alone. Never."
Emma nodded hesitantly, gathering courage from her mother's unwavering resolve.
Suddenly Elizabeth felt like she was walking outside of her own body, her vision beginning to swim in tears as she stepped forward on unsteady legs.
Eli lay still beneath crisp white linens, his fur neatly groomed, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. The sight of him, so quiet, so fragile, sent a tremor through her body. The world outside the infirmary ceased to exist; the weight of her grief, her terror, her exhaustion, all of it collapsed into a single overwhelming truth.
He was alive.
A sob tore free from her throat as she rushed forward, nearly collapsing at his bedside. Her paws trembled as she reached out, hesitant, as if touching him might make him disappear, like some cruel illusion her mind had conjured in desperation. But as her fingers brushed over the soft fur of his hand, warmth met her skin. He was real. He was here.
"Oh my sweet Eli," she gasped, barely able to force the words out between uneven breaths. "I thought… we thought, we lost you."
She gripped his hand tighter, pressing it to her forehead as hot tears slipped freely down her face. "You're safe now, baby. Momma's here. I'm here. You don't have to fight anymore I'll take care of you honey. You can wake up now. Please."
Her other paw gently cupped his face, stroking his cheek with the same tenderness she had when he was a child, when he would crawl into bed beside her after a bad dream, when she could whisper away his fears with soft reassurances and warm embraces.
But there was no warmth here, not really.
No sleepy voice mumbling, "I love you, Momma." No tiny fingers clinging to her dress for comfort.
No response.
Elizabeth's breathing faltered, her chest tightening as the realization sank in, slicing through her fragile moment of relief like a cruel blade.
He wasn't waking up.
Her hands shook violently, squeezing his unresponsive fingers as if she could will him to move, to react, to say something. "Eli…?" she whispered, voice breaking.
Nothing.
A sharp sob clawed its way up her throat, her body trembling under the weight of devastation. She pressed her forehead to his, her tears dampening his fur as she clung to him.
"You're supposed to come back to me," she choked out. "You're supposed to wake up. You're supposed to tell me everything's going to be okay."
But the only sound that answered her was the faint hum of the infirmary lanterns and the slow, mechanical beep of a heart monitor that counted time in a rhythm that felt painfully indifferent.
He was alive.
But he wasn't here.
And she couldn't know if he ever would be again.
Emma lingered near the doorway, frozen by the unfamiliar sight of her brother, vibrant memories clashing harshly with his current reality. Her young heart ached fiercely, confusion and fear gripping her chest.
Castin watched from a distance, deeply uncomfortable, the sterile scent of the infirmary suffocating him. He was suddenly transported back to those white rooms, memories flooding him like cold water, Elena's frail hand gripping his, her small frame diminishing daily under the ruthless assault of cancer and chemotherapy, the whispers of nurses, the sympathetic eyes of doctors.
And Lillian.
The room blurred around him, becoming another place, another time, filled with sharp cries of pain and the finality of loss, as life slipped quietly from the woman he loved, leaving him shattered, alone, holding a newborn daughter who would never know her mother. Castin watched as Elizabeth placed Eli's hand in hers, the need to believe that Eli placed his own hand in there heavy in Elizabeth's posture. The thought that he may never do that of his own volition again made the act that much more effective in tearing down Castin's walls and bringing forth his tears. His body shook with silent sobs as he watched the scene unfold reflecting a situation he was all to familiar with.
Time seemed to slip by and the next time Castin registered anything in the room he was holding a now sleeping Emma in his arms rocking her with his whole body as he wore a thousand yard stare.
Elizabeth's soft voice jolted him from his reverie. "Castin? Are you alright?"
He blinked rapidly, returning to the present, offering a weak smile. "Hospitals," he muttered softly. "They've never been kind to me."
Elizabeth studied him gently, recognizing familiar grief in his eyes. "Maybe it would help to remember happier moments," she offered softly. "Would you… would you mind if I shared something about my Eli?"
Castin nodded slowly, grateful for the distraction. "No, of course not Elizabeth, go ahead."
Elizabeth's eyes softened with warmth. "Well when Eli was young, he was always getting into trouble. I mean, you've seen the carvings, you know what he's done to my furniture." Elizabeth laughed before she continued. "But there was one night, during the Lantern Festival. Eli had found a lantern with someone's wish written on it. 'I hope I go on to do great things.' He handed it to Emma and told her he didn't need a lantern for that. He already knew he'd do great things." Elizabeth smiled and a few more tears gently worked their way out.
Castin smiled softly, comforted by the quiet strength in Elizabeth's voice. Emma, softly wrenched from sleep by their voices, asked to be lowered from Castin's arms and finally approached Eli's bedside, reaching hesitantly to hold her brother's paw.
"Eli," Emma whispered softly, her voice thick with emotion. "You promised you'd always protect me. I'm here now. I promise to be brave, just like you taught me. But you have to come back, okay? We need you."
The gentle creak of the infirmary door drew everyone's attention as the Rat King entered, his presence immediately filling the room with solemn authority.
"Elizabeth," he began gently, meeting her gaze with sincere regret. "I owe you an apology. There were things I kept from you. Eli was found some time ago, and we didn't tell you, believing it best to spare you more pain. But that was wrong."
Elizabeth stood, her posture tense, eyes blazing. "You knew? You knew Eli was alive and you said nothing? How could you—"
"Elizabeth," the Rat King interjected calmly but firmly, "I understand your anger. I accept it fully. But we have reached a turning point, and your strength, your family's strength, is vital now more than ever."
Elizabeth's anger faltered slightly, replaced by determination. "Then just tell me what I can do to help."
Before he could respond, Castin moved forward, meeting Elizabeth's questioning gaze with gentle assurance. "You've all done enough, we'll bring Naomi back, and when we do, we'll have answers."
Emma squeezed Eli's paw softly, determination shining in her young eyes. "And Eli will be waiting. He promised."
The Rat King nodded approvingly, his voice resonating with quiet confidence. "Together, we face whatever comes. In unity, we will find strength. For our families and for Rat City."
The weight in the infirmary hung thick even as the Rat King's words settled over them. Determination had replaced grief, but the ache of uncertainty still clung to them all.
Elizabeth squeezed Eli's limp hand one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before straightening, her resolve steeling itself in the fire of her grief.
"I won't sit idly by anymore," she repeated, "just tell me what I can do to help." looking to the Rat King with a quiet ferocity.
The Rat King met her gaze evenly, nodding once. "I will let you know if there is anything I can have you do Elizabeth."
Emma clung to Castin's sleeve as they moved toward the exit. Castin glanced down at her sleepy, teary-eyed face, her small frame feeling far too fragile in the wake of everything. He gently ruffled her ears, a soft attempt at reassurance.
Emma looked up to Castin as she sleepily rubbed at her eyes. "Bring Naomi home," she whispered.
"We will," Castin said softly.
With that, they left Eli behind, stepping into the corridors of the palace.
The Rat King led them through the winding halls, down into a war room, a chamber deep beneath the palace, fortified and quiet. The scent of old parchment and burning oil filled the space, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows over the massive strategy table at the center of the room. Castin couldn't help but wonder what other conflicts this room had been used to resolve.
As Castin and Matias entered, a few heads turned their way. Some held suspicion. Others curiosity. Castin took in the details of the room, maps were spread out, marked with figures and drawn pathways, showing the layout of Roe's compound. Several rats, fighters, scouts, and tacticians, stood at attention, murmuring to one another as they awaited orders.Castin thought to himself "Is this how prepared he is at any time, this looks like something that would have taken weeks of work to prepare…" And then one voice cut through the murmurs.
"So these are the bastards coming with us? Good ol' Matias and a smooth skin?"
A burly, battle-scarred rat leaned back against the table, arms crossed, his face a patchwork of old wounds and experience. He was older than Matias but had the demeanor of a veteran who had survived too much to be impressed by anyone.
Matias sighed heavily before muttering, "Great. I get to die next to Garret."
Garret grinned, all sharp teeth. "I told you before, Greymire, I don't die easy." His gaze shifted to Castin, narrowing slightly. "And you. You're the human. You any good in a fight, or are you just here for decoration?"
Before Castin could answer, another voice chimed in.
"Ignore him. He's just mad we won't be fighting in a cage this time."
A leaner, quicker-looking rat with a half-missing ear leaned against the table. His eyes held a sharpness to them, a calculated intelligence that contrasted Garret's brute force.
Matias exhaled sharply. "And Vance, too? Who else are we bringing, the entire damn outpost?"
"Could be worse," Vance quipped. "Could be just you."
Castin felt the tension in the room shift slightly, the interplay between the soldiers quick, biting, but not unfriendly. These weren't just fighters, they were survivors, men who had fought side by side before, who had seen blood spill together.
And now, Castin was stepping into their world.
The Rat King cleared his throat, immediately silencing the banter.
The room fell into absolute silence.
The weight of the coming battle pressing down on everyone inside.
The Rat King stood at the head of the massive strategy table, maps spread before him, the layout of Roe's fortress carefully detailed in ink and figurines. Around him, fighters, scouts, and tacticians stood at attention, waiting for orders.
Matias and Castin stood near the center of the room, surrounded by seasoned soldiers, some of whom still eyed the human with quiet curiosity or mild skepticism.
The Rat King exhaled, his sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on Matias.
"Matias," he said, his voice even but firm. "You'll take point on the operation."
Matias gave a curt nod, already anticipating the assignment.
"We're taking a stealth approach to Roe's stronghold," the Rat King continued. "A direct assault is too risky, we don't know what he has waiting for us inside. If this turns into an open battle before we get a foothold, we lose our advantage."
His fingers tapped against the map. "We're going in quiet."
The room remained dead still as he continued.
"There's something else."
A flicker of unease passed through the assembled fighters.
"Talia had been feeding us intelligence on Roe's operation for some time now," the Rat King said, his tone neutral but with an edge of concern. "But her last planned check-in never happened."
Matias stiffened, his ear twitching slightly.
"She's missing?"
The Rat King nodded. "And I don't believe it's a coincidence."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"If she's inside that stronghold," the Rat King continued, "we get her out. Same goes for any other prisoners Roe might be holding."
"Questions?"
No one spoke.
"Good." The Rat King leaned over the table, his gaze sharp. "We move fast. We move smart. We don't give Roe time to react."
As the planning wrapped up, low murmurs broke out among the gathered fighters.
Off to the side, Garret and Vance stood slightly apart from the others, speaking in hushed tones.
Castin eyed them, catching the way Garret's grin widened slightly as Vance muttered something under his breath.
"What are you two whispering about?" Castin asked, stepping toward them.
Garret snorted, rolling his shoulders. "Oh, just wondering how good the human actually is in a fight."
Matias, still buckling his gear, shot them a sharp look.
"That isn't necessary," he said flatly. "Castin's one of the best fighters I've ever seen—hands down."
Garret's ears twitched with interest. "That so?" He looked Castin over again, less dismissive now, more intrigued. "Well, I love a good fight, but I doubt we've got time for one."
Matias exhaled, relieved, until Garret added, "At least let me arm wrestle him."
The Rat King, who had been listening in silence, let out a low chuckle.
"Fine," he said with a small wave of his hand. "But make it quick."
Garret grinned, stepping forward, his huge frame sinking into a chair as he cleared space on the nearest table.
"Alright, smooth skin," Garret said, rolling his massive shoulders as he planted his elbow on the surface. "Let's see what you've got."
Castin sighed, stepping forward and sitting across from Garret, reaching out to clasp the other rat's hand.
The war room grew quiet, fighters gathering around, watching with anticipation.
Garret's muscles flexed, his large furry arm bulging as he dug his feet against the floor, applying steady force.
At first, Castin held his ground easily, not moving, letting Garret push against him with everything he had.
Garret's teeth clenched, his forearm trembling slightly from exertion.
The Rat King cleared his throat impatiently, looking at Castin with an expectant stare.
"Make it quick, Castin."
Castin sighed dramatically. "Fine," he muttered. "You're no fun."
With almost no effort, Castin casually slammed Garret's arm to the table.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Vance blinked, his mouth opening slightly. "What the fuck?"
Garret stared at his hand, still pressed against the wood, before looking up at Castin. "Well." His grin returned, his ears flicking in surprise. "You're strong. But I hope you know how to fight too."
Castin grinned, shaking his head as he stood.
"Guess you'll find out."
The Rat King allowed himself the faintest smirk before turning his attention back to the battle plan.
"All of you," he said, voice measured, calm, absolute, "listen carefully. We have one shot at this, move out."
The squad moved with purpose, gathering their weapons, strapping on gear, making final preparations. The air in the war room was heavy with expectation, the moment before everything changed.
Castin was checking his knife belt when a voice cut through the movement.
"A word, Castin."
The Rat King.
Castin glanced at Matias, who was in a hushed conversation with Vance, before following the Rat King to the far end of the chamber, where only the two of them could hear.
The Rat King turned, arms folded behind his back, his golden eyes cool and measured. He studied Castin for a long moment before speaking.
"This mission isn't just about Roe anymore."
Castin nodded once, already knowing where this was going.
"Talia."
The Rat King exhaled, a rare sign of strain breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. "She was my inside connection to Roe's operation. I trusted her." His gaze darkened. "But now, she's missing. And we both know what that likely means."
Castin said nothing, letting the words settle.
"I need you to be prepared," the Rat King continued, voice quieter. "Roe is vicious. If he got his hands on her, it won't be a clean death. It'll be slow. And it'll be for a reason."
Castin felt the weight of the warning pressing down on him. Not for himself but for Matias.
"You're worried about him," Castin said simply.
The Rat King's golden eyes flicked toward Matias, who was tightening the straps on his armor, oblivious to their conversation.
"I need him focused. If we find her in time, then good. If not…" He paused, his voice growing heavier. "Then be ready for what happens next."
Castin nodded, saying nothing.
The Rat King held his gaze for a moment longer before giving a final nod and stepping away, returning to the war room.
Castin stood there, exhaling slowly.
He had sworn he was done with other people's wars.
He had sworn he would never let duty outweigh his own survival again.
But as he looked around at these people, at Matias, at the fighters preparing for war, he knew the truth.
This wasn't just another mission.
He cared about these people.
And that meant he wasn't walking away.
The team moved out under the cover of darkness, slipping through the winding streets of Rat City like shadows beneath the flickering lanterns.
The closer they got to Roe's hideout, the more Castin's muscles tensed. This wasn't new to him. The way the squad moved together, the subtle hand signals, the quiet steps against stone, it all felt familiar.
Like the ops he ran in the UNSC.
Except this time, he wasn't fighting for a government or a commander he didn't respect.
He was fighting for the people next to him.
Matias moved ahead, scouting, Garret and Vance keeping a tight formation, their eyes scanning every shadow. As the made their way through the front entrance of the tunnels to Roe's hideout Castin couldn't help but feel like he came back here sooner than he would have liked.
Then a sound.
A low groan, barely audible, coming from one of the side tunnels.
Matias froze, his whole body going rigid. His ears twitched, straining to listen.
Without a word, he broke away from the group.
"Matias—" Castin started, but Matias was already moving, disappearing into the alley.
Castin exchanged a look with Vance before following.
And then he saw her.
Talia.
She was half-conscious, slumped against the damp stone, her leg slick with blood from a bullet wound. Her fur was matted, her breathing uneven, her clothes torn and dirt-streaked.
Matias was already at her side, panic flickering through his usually controlled expression.
"Talia," he whispered, gripping her shoulders. "Hey, hey, stay with me."
Her eyelids fluttered, a weak breath escaping her lips.
Matias turned sharply to Castin, his voice tight. "We need to get her back to the palace, now."
Castin didn't argue. He turned toward one of the other guards in the squad, a rat named Kiernan, and motioned him over.
"She's in bad shape," Castin said, keeping his voice calm. "You get her stabilized and take her back to the Rat King. We'll handle the rest."
Kiernan nodded, already moving.
Matias was still beside her, his hands shaking slightly.
Castin placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"She's alive," Castin said, voice low but steady. "That's what matters."
Matias exhaled sharply, nodding once, but his worry remained.
As Kiernan lifted Talia into his arms, she murmured weakly, her eyes barely opening.
"Matias…"
Matias leaned closer, his ears twitching. "I'm here."
Talia swallowed, her words barely a whisper.
"…Get Naomi."
And then she went limp again.
Matias went completely still.
Castin exchanged a look with him, then with Vance and Garret.
The message was clear.
This wasn't just about taking down Roe anymore.
This was about bringing everyone home.